


No Harm, No Foul

by mycarlydotcom



Series: The Funny Business Timeline [7]
Category: iCarly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24473086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycarlydotcom/pseuds/mycarlydotcom
Summary: Sam has regretfully agreed to have dinner with Freddie at his mother’s place. Up until recently the two stubborn-minded women have never seen eye-to-eye, but even with the worst of their relationship seemingly in the rearview, Sam is still skeptical that Mrs. Benson will ever truly like her.
Relationships: Freddie Benson/Sam Puckett
Series: The Funny Business Timeline [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661167
Kudos: 29





	No Harm, No Foul

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: Set several weeks after my last story, Life’s Cruelest Form of Torture, and expanding on Sam’s relationship with Mrs. Benson since the fourth installment of this timeline, Rough Patches.
> 
> General: Hello again everyone! Hope you all are doing well in these tumultuous times we’ve been going through, and that you all continue to be safe.
> 
> We’re picking up once again with The Funny Business Timeline, and we have reached the seventh installment. I had mentioned before that I had already began working on the next major installment for this project, and I hope to finish that relatively soon, but we’ll see if I manage that lol. Also, I may, or may not choose to write another shorter installment preceding that major piece, but I’m not sure yet; regardless, be on the lookout for any future updates. As always, I would like to make it known to any first time readers that this is merely a piece of a much larger project, and if you enjoy this at all, I would suggest reading the entire timeline for full effect. Thank you again to anybody who does read! I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> One final note before we jump into things. I’ve recently been lending a hand in crafting a story with my fellow user, Ghost_Writer_SN. He graciously has allowed me to collaborate with him on this story, titled iRemember, and I’m confident if you have enjoyed work from either of us, you will like this too, so give it a read if you feel interested. Be sure to give his other works a read as well, he has several stories that I’m sure you will find quite enjoyable.

**_No Harm, No Foul_ **

**_Chapter I: “Truce, or No Truce”_ **

Sam laid on the couch with her head propped against Freddie’s lap; Freddie was sat upright with an arm draped over her waist. Outrageous sound effects from some ridiculous action movie they were watching (Sam’s choice of course), echoed from the television.

_“That’s so unrealistic,”_ Freddie commented at the absurdity of what he was seeing on the screen, _“nobody could survive an explosion like that.”_

_“It’s a movie nub-head, it’s fake,”_ she commented back to him. _“Who cares if it’s not realistic?”_

_“I’m just saying,”_ he continued, _“it takes me out of the movie.”_

_“Pfft, whatever Nug Nug,”_ she quipped, acknowledging his love for a fictional space character from Galaxy Wars.

_“That’s completely different,”_ he insisted, _“Galaxy Wars is a story about intergalactic space warfare. It acknowledges its fictional premise right out of the gate so you can suspend your disbelief. This is just an action movie about humans doing things humans could never do.”_

_“Wow, you’re still talking?”_ she sarcastically responded to his longwinded thesis.

_“Wow, you’re still immature?”_ he shot back at her.

_“Excuse you,”_ she said with her brow furrowed, taking offense to that. Shifting on to her back, she swiftly slapped his upper torso directly under the collarbone with the back of her hand.

_“Ouch!”_ he winced, _“What the heck was that for?!”_

_“For being a whazz-bag,”_ she bluntly told him.

_“How am I a whazz-bag? You started it!”_ he argued.

_“Cause what you said was actually rude,”_ she replied with a slight agitation present in her voice.

_“Well, what you said was kinda rude too,”_ he replied matter-of-factly.

_“Oh, c’mon you big baby,”_ she said, _“I wasn’t being serious. You know that.”_

_“I don’t know that,”_ he replied, _“You’ve made a pastime out of picking on me all your life.”_

This prompted Sam to sit up; if she wasn’t offended before, she certainly was now. _“Are you serious right now?”_ she asked with a bothered look on her face.

_“What?”_ his brow furrowed.

_“I don’t pick on you!”_ she argued.

_“Yeah, ok,”_ he sarcastically responded.

_“Ugh, you’re such a dork sometimes,”_ she rolled her eyes.

_“My point exactly,”_ he remarked in response.

_“I don’t pick on you nub-head!”_ she reiterated, _“I flirt with you. I thought that was pretty obvious by this point. I haven’t legitimately picked on you since we were kids.”_ She crossed her arms and sat back on the couch in frustration.

Freddie smirked slightly at her admission; of course he had already known that to be true. Sam was never serious when she’d mess with him nowadays, it was just part of their shtick. _“Yeah, I know,”_ he admitted back to her with a smile.

_“Then don’t say that,”_ she responded. _“I know we were just goofing around, but chiz like that actually bothers me. I don’t pick on you, and I’m not ‘immature’,”_ she threw up air quotes.

_“I wasn’t being serious either babe, you know that,”_ he said candidly.

_“I don’t know that,”_ she replied, _“You know better than anyone how hard I’ve tried to get my act together. Hearing chiz like that makes me question myself.”_

_“Wow, you’re such a dork sometimes,”_ he tried to joke with her to lighten the mood, but to no avail.

Deadpanning him, she replied, _“My point exactly,”_ before averting her eyes away to the TV.

Freddie hadn’t intended to actually offend her, but deciding to throw the word _‘immature’_ at her, knowing full well of all her strides made to be a responsible adult was not his brightest moment, and he did himself no favors with the _‘picking on him’_ comment either. _“Alright, alright,”_ his voice softened as he slid close to her, _“Truce?”_ he offered. She ignored him, continuing to stare straight ahead at the TV. _“Babe, I didn’t mean to actually upset you.”_

_“Well you kinda did,”_ she bluntly said.

_“Don’t be mad,”_ he said as he attempted to hold her hand, but she swiftly pulled it back, scooting herself away from him. _“C’mon,”_ he scooted right back up next to her, playfully nudging her arm in attempt to perk her back up. Unwavering in his sappy appeals, slowly but surely, a smirk began to creep its way back onto her face. _“I see you smiling,”_ he pointed it out as she side-eyed him, attempting to hide it. Poking at her arm with his index finger, he said, _“You can’t hide it,”_ and a faint chuckle spilled out of her mouth. She quickly tried to play it off. _“I heard that! You’re not mad! I win!”_ he said victoriously.

Dropping her tensive demeanor, she uncrossed her arms and tilted her head towards him, _“Oh, be quiet nub-head. You don’t just ‘win’ because I like you enough not to stay mad.”_

_“Fair enough,”_ he put his hands up innocently. _“So, truce?”_ he offered once more.

_“Hmm, we’ll see,”_ she shrugged.

_“No, no,”_ he shook his head, _“I’m not stupid.”_

_“I beg to differ,”_ she quipped.

_“Cute,”_ he played along, _“but I’m not falling for that old trick.”_

_“What old trick?”_ she asked with a slight smirk on face.

_“It’s either truce, or no truce,”_ he said, _“I know your game.”_

_“Oh, you do huh?”_ she replied.

_“Uh-huh,”_ he nodded, _“you wait for me to drop my guard, and then get me when I least expect it.”_ She chuckled as Freddie practically outlined her entire game plan. _“See, I’m right,”_ he continued in response to her laughter.

_“Alright, fine. Truce, nub-head,”_ she relented before relaxing into him and resting her head on his shoulder.

_“So, we’re cool now?”_ he asked.

_“Yes, we’re cool,”_ she confirmed.

_“Good,”_ he said as he swung his arm over and around her, _“and I’m sorry, by the way,”_ he added.

Looking up at him with a grin she said, _“And I win.”_

_“And you win?”_ he repeated her in a confused tone.

_“Yep,”_ she nodded, _“you caved and said sorry first. I win,”_ she whimsically continued.

_“You make these rules up as you go along,”_ he jokingly threw his one free hand up and slapped his thigh.

_“When are you gonna learn? Mama always wins,”_ she continued deviously.

_“Just like I said, I drop my guard then you get me,”_ he restated.

_“You know my entire playbook, and I still beat you all the time,”_ she chuckled, _“It’s pretty sad honestly.”_

_“Well, at least you know could always get into acting if you get tired of babysitting,”_ he quipped, _“I really thought I offended you.”_

_“I was only halfway acting,”_ she gently shoved his arm, _“I wanted to win, but I still didn’t appreciate those comments nub-head.”_

_“Okay, fair enough,”_ he said once more, _“but I didn’t appreciate the cheap you gave me either. I think you left a mark,”_ he rubbed at his collarbone.

_“Man up, Benson,”_ she joked.

_“Hey, you hit pretty freakin’ hard,”_ he said to her, and she deviously smirked in acknowledgement.

_“Well, I’m sorry then,”_ she offered an apology of her own before leaning in to kiss him. _“Ya know, I can make that feel better,”_ she flirtatiously said as she began gently trailing her lips down to his collarbone.

_“Hey, hey, let’s not get too frisky here,”_ he reluctantly said, fighting off the desire to engage with her any further, _“it’s getting late, and I gotta get to bed soon.”_

Pulling her lips away from his clavicle, she sarcastically responded, _“Getting late? Okay grandpa, it’s not even 9 o’clock yet.”_

_“I’m just saying, I gotta be up early tomorrow.”_

_“Okay, you really are a dork sometimes,”_ she playfully said to him again.

_“You still had your lips all over me though,”_ he quipped.

_“Watch it Fredbag, I’ll keep my lips to myself if you don’t appreciate them,”_ she threatened.

_“I very much appreciate them,”_ he assured her, _“but my point stands, I gotta get up early tomorrow.”_

_“For what?”_ she asked, confused. _“You don’t work ‘til 11’ tomorrow, and class is later in the afternoon. The heck do you gotta get up early for?”_

_“Well for one, I gotta finish that paper that’s due for class tomorrow. I opted not to do it tonight so we could spend some time together,”_ he told her.

_“That’s not fair, don’t go blaming me for your procrastination,”_ she told him.

_“I’m not blaming you,”_ he replied, _“I made that choice, but I’m still gonna have to wake up early tomorrow to do it.”_

_“I thought you were almost done that paper anyway,”_ she said, _“I could’ve sworn you said you only had a few more pages to do.”_

_“Yeah, it is mostly finished,”_ he confirmed, _“just those last few pages, and then I gotta proof read it.”_

_“Well that can’t take more than an hour,”_ she told him, _“it’s not like you gotta wake up at the crack of dawn to do that. You make it sound like it’s gonna take all day.”_

_“Well I gotta run to the grocery store tomorrow too, I won’t have time to do it later in the day,”_ he said.

_“Okay, you’re crazy,”_ she replied. _“We don’t need to food shop, there’s still plenty to eat the kitchen.”_

_“Pffft, you totally forgot,”_ Freddie shook his head, _“I had a feeling you might have.”_

_“Now what’re you talking about?”_ Sam asked.

_“I’m not going food shopping for us. I’m going to grab a few things for us to bring to my mom’s tomorrow,”_ he told her, and Sam’s eyes widened. _“So you forgot,”_ Freddie said again in response to the flabbergasted look on her face.

_“Awww crab!”_ Sam belted out, _“That’s tomorrow?!”_

_“Yes, it’s tomorrow, and we shouldn’t show up empty handed, my mom will think that’s rude,”_ he told her. _“I have to go to the store because someone who said ‘they’d have it covered,’ never went this week.”_

_“Ughhh,”_ she groaned, _“Why didn’t you remind me?!”_

_“I didn’t think I needed to,”_ Freddie shrugged. _“You write everything down in your little book nowadays, I figured you be on top of things. What happened to that?”_

_“Guess I don’t keep track of things that I’d rather not,”_ she replied bluntly.

_“I don’t get it, you and my mom have been on a good streak, why ruin it?”_ he asked.

_“‘Good,’ is a strong way to put it Freddie,”_ she stressed to him.

_“Well regardless, it’s tomorrow, and since we have nothing to bring, I gotta wake up early to go to the store.”_

_“No, don’t do that,”_ she said, _“I’ll take care of it. Just worry about your paper.”_

_“It’s no big deal, I can do it…”_

_“No, I told you I would do it, and I forgot,”_ she interrupted him, _“so let me take care of it. I’ll get it done before my babysitting gig tomorrow.”_

_“You sure?”_ he asked.

_“I got it,”_ she assured him.

_“Okay then.”_

_“Well, I guess we both gotta get up early now, so I guess we should get to bed,”_ she sighed as she went to stand up.

_“Whoa, hold on there!”_ he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling on it just enough to plop her back into the couch. _“You’re not getting away that easily with your little ‘grandpa’ comment,”_ he told her as he leaned over her to kiss her, _“I’m not that tired yet anyway.”_

A smile danced across her lips as they met with his. _“Oh really?”_ she cutely responded in between subtle breaths and kisses.

_“Mhm,”_ he responded as they fell horizontally together onto the couch while the Webflix movie continued playing on the TV in the background.

**_Chapter II: “No Harm, No Foul”_ **

_“Ughhh, I really don’t want to,”_ Sam dramatically groaned.

Spencer chuckled to himself from the kitchen counter as Sam sat on his couch, talking on the phone with Freddie.

_“She’s already expecting you,”_ Freddie replied on the other end of the line, _“it’s too late now. You shouldn’t have agreed to show up early if you didn’t want to.”_ That was another part of the day’s itinerary that Sam had forgotten about; the part where she’d be alone with Mrs. Benson before Freddie arrived. He had an evening class after a short work shift earlier in the day, and Mrs. Benson had loosely invited Sam over early when the plan was originally made, and Sam in her infinite wisdom, had agreed without really thinking about it.

_“Yeah, I regret it,”_ she replied to Freddie, _“not my smartest decision. I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to this. I should’ve lied and pretended like I was gonna be babysitting longer.”_ Her gig earlier that day had only been a few hours, leaving her entire late-afternoon open for Mrs. Benson to give the aforementioned invite.

_“I thought you wanted my mom to like you?”_ Freddie asked, acknowledging Sam’s previous sentiments about her relationship with his mother, and how it bothered her that they didn’t get along.

_“Ughhh,”_ Sam simply groaned once more. He was right, she did want that, desperately, but having to be alone with her just didn’t sound like a good time, and she was dreading it.

_“C’mon Sam, I’ll be there before you know it,”_ Freddie told her, _“and if you need something to pass the time just talk about me or something. I promise it won’t be that bad.”_

_“Fine whatever,”_ Sam relented. _“Just hurry up, okay?”_

_“You got it,”_ he replied. _“See ya in bit. Love you.”_

_“Uh-huh,”_ Sam ended the call, tossing her pear-phone on the couch beside herself. Tilting her head back, she let out another groan, _“Ughhhh.”_

_“How bad could it be?”_ Spencer chimed in from the kitchen counter.

_“How bad could it be?”_ Sam repeated him, picking her head up. _“Dude, you’ve been her neighbor for years, you know how she is.”_

_“Well, yeah I get that Mrs. Benson can be a little much sometimes,”_ Spencer acknowledged, _“but I thought you guys were cool now?”_

_“I mean, yeah ever since Christmas she doesn’t like ‘hate me’ anymore,”_ Sam acknowledged, _“but I wouldn’t say we’re ‘cool’.”_

_“But you wanna be,”_ Spencer said to Sam, and she glared back at him. _“It wasn’t that long ago that you were sitting right here at this kitchen counter telling me how much you hated the fact that you two didn’t get along. She doesn’t hate you anymore, now is your chance to improve that situation even more.”_

Letting out a stressful, deep breath, Sam replied, _“I know, I know. It’s just awkward. Nobody likes awkward situations.”_

_“It won’t be that bad,”_ Spencer echoed Freddie’s sentiments. He then stood up and walked over to the couch to get Sam up and out of his apartment, and across the hall to apartment 8-D. _“C’mon kiddo,”_ he told her, handing her the bag of groceries she had picked up earlier like she had promised Freddie she would, _“time to go show his mom that you’re a good girlfriend.”_

_“Ugh…”_ she began to groan again before Spencer interrupted her dramatic behavior.

_“Get over there before the woman starts to dislike you again! I promise you’ll thank me later!”_ he belted over her as he pushed her by the shoulders through his living room and out his door.

Staggering out into the hallway with Spencer’s door shutting behind her, Sam had no choice but to face music. She walked up to the door of apartment 8-D, raised her hand in a fist, hesitated for a second, and then knocked. _“I could leave right now,”_ she jokingly whispered to herself as she awaited an answer at the door. Her dread only grew as the seconds passed waiting for Mrs. Benson to answer. She didn’t want to knock again, his mother would certainly find some reason to complain about that if she did. Finally, after several more seconds, the knob started to turn before the door cracked open, and out came Mrs. Benson to greet Sam.

_“Hi Samantha!”_ she cordially greeted her son’s girlfriend.

_‘Well, off to a good start at least,’_ Sam thought to herself before greeting her back, _“Hi Marissa,”_ which felt weird, but she didn’t know what else to say. She had always referred to Mrs. Benson simply as _‘Freddie’s mom,’_ or sometimes _‘whack job,’_ when speaking about her to someone else. His mother didn’t seem to mind however, as she extended her arms out for an embrace of all things. That felt weird too, but Sam wasn’t about to ruin a good thing so she obliged and took the embrace, awkwardly fumbling with her bag still in one hand.

_“Come on in,”_ Mrs. Benson said, stepping to the side to allow Sam through.

As Sam stepped into the living room she quickly realized the sound of her boots clacking on the hardwood floor of the apartment. _“Ooops! Sorry!”_ she cringed, knowing full well that shoes on in the house was a big no-no for Mrs. Benson.

_“No harm, no foul,”_ Mrs. Benson replied, _“just leave them by the door.”_

_‘Hmm, no ridiculous outburst,’_ Sam thought to herself, _‘thank god.’_ She then quickly kicked off her boots and left them by the door as requested before approaching Mrs. Benson again. _“It smells really good,”_ Sam awkwardly complimented the aroma of the dinner being prepared. To be fair, it did actually smell quite mouthwatering, and Sam was pretty excited to dig in to the feast later.

_“Thanks,”_ Mrs. Benson replied, offering to take Sam’s coat and hang it on the rack, _“I can’t say its Pini’s, but Freddie always did like whenever I made Italian food for dinner.”_

Sam nodded in response. _“Ummm, here Freddie and I brought a few things,”_ Sam handed her the bag of groceries, _“He told me to get a baguette to go with the dinner you were making, and there’s a pie for dessert, and few other treats. Freddie made sure I ticked all the appropriate boxes with the choices.”_ Along with the pie, there was a can of whipped cream (an additional risk by Sam), as well as an assorted box of generic, bland looking, cookies that nobody else in the store would ever pick up, but according to Freddie, his whacky mother loved these things.

A half smile appeared on his mother’s face. Or was it a grimace? Or a look of disapproval? Sam couldn’t tell. _“I see,”_ Mrs. Benson replied in a blunt and almost judgmental tone, peaking into the bag and then walking into the kitchen.

_‘Chiz, I shouldn’t have got the whipped cream,’_ Sam thought. _‘C’mon Sam, you know better. This woman is nuts, she probably saw the whipped cream, took the bag kitchen, and threw everything away. Now she’s probably mad,’_ she continued to wrestle with her thoughts.

_“Feel free to get comfortable Samantha,”_ his mother shouted back from the kitchen, _“I’ll be right back.”_

Was there tension? Sam couldn’t read the situation to save her life. Everything seemed alright, and Mrs. Benson was being unusually cordial; perhaps she really had managed to turn the corner with his mother after everything that happened over Christmas. Then again, there was still a subtle sense of combativeness that loomed, at least in Sam’s mind. She plopped onto the couch, unsure if things were going good or not. _“This is gonna drive me crazy,”_ she whispered to herself.

_“Hmmm?”_ she was interrupted by Mrs. Benson reentering the room with a beverage in hand. She handed it to Sam, _“Wahoo Punch,”_ she said, _“Freddie tells me that’s one of your go-to drinks, so I went ahead and bought some.”_

_‘Was that a nice gesture?’_ Sam wondered as she took the glass. _“Ummm, yeah it is. Thank you,”_ she awkwardly smiled before taking a sip. A slight grimace then found its way to her face as she swallowed the drink.

_“Sugar-free,”_ Mrs. Benson said.

_“Sorry?”_ Sam replied, confused.

_“It’s sugar-free,”_ she continued, _“if you noticed. I’m not big on the sugary drinks, that can’t be good for my little Freddie.”_

_‘He’s twenty three,’_ Sam bluntly rattled off in her mind, but simply raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement to his mother. _“Didn’t even notice,”_ she politely said, sitting the glass down on a coaster.

_“So how’s the babysitting service?”_ Mrs. Benson then asked, taking a seat on the chair across from Sam.

In her head, Sam was rolling her eyes at the cringe inducing small talk she was about to engage in, but she pressed forward with smile. _“I can’t say I love it, but I like being my own my boss so I guess it’s not all bad,”_ she shrugged.

_“Well it’s good practice,”_ Mrs. Benson replied.

_“Practice?”_ Sam asked.

_“Mhm, for when you have kids one day,”_ she continued, completely catching Sam off guard with that.

_‘Did she just? No, she wouldn’t. Kids? Surely she’s implying me having someone else’s kids, not Freddie’s. Well that ain’t happening lady, me and Freddie are happy, and I’m here to stay,’_ Sam went on and on, continuing to wrestle with the thoughts in her brain while trying to keep a cool, calm, and collected demeanor in front of his mother.

_“If you have kids,”_ Mrs. Benson adjusted her statement. Had she noticed Sam’s reaction to the comment? _“I suppose it’s not for everybody, but Freddie tells me you’re pretty good with the children you babysit.”_

_“If he says so,”_ Sam shrugged once more.

_“I don’t take you for one with that level patience Samantha. It’s kind of surprising to hear,”_ his mother continued, _“in a good way.”_

_“I guess it’s just something you have to learn when it’s what you’re forced to deal with,”_ Sam explained, before her mind wandered off to read further into Mrs. Benson’s words. _‘Wait-‘in a good way’-does that mean she thinks I’d be a good mother to Freddie’s…’_

_“Forced?”_ his mother interrupted her train of thought, _“So, I take it you’re not really into the whole kids thing then? To each their own I suppose.”_

_“Well maybe ‘forced’ isn’t the right word. I don’t hate kids,”_ Sam tried to explain, worried his mother might be judging her in some way. _“As a matter of fact, there is one kid in particular that I watch from time to time who I really like. His name is Connor.”_

_“Oh really?”_ his mother asked, seemingly delighted by this revelation.

_“Mhm, he’s a really sweet little boy. I wish they all were like him,”_ Sam said. _“Some of them can be a real pain though, and it makes the job pretty stressful at points. I can’t blame the kids though, they don’t know any better, but that’s what I mean by ‘forced.’ You learn, adapt, and figure out how to handle different situations with different kids.”_

_“So kids of your own isn’t out of the question then,”_ Mrs. Benson commented with a smirk. If Sam didn’t know any better, it was starting to sound more and more like Mrs. Benson was excited at the prospect of grandchildren. While it certainly was nice to think that his mother might actually accept the fact that Sam could very well be the mother to Freddie’s children one day, she preferred not to think about that; she was only twenty-two after all, and having kids anytime soon was not something that sounded at all enticing.

_“I don’t know, I don’t think anytime soon,”_ Sam replied.

_“Oh no, of course not,”_ Mrs. Benson replied, and once again Sam found herself reading into subtext that was quite possibly non-existent.

_‘What the heck does that mean?-‘of course not?’- I knew it was too good to be true. She doesn’t think I’m good enough to mother Freddie’s children. She was just baiting the topic out of me so she could put me down. I don’t know why I even bother…’_

_“You’re still young,”_ Mrs. Benson continued, _“but at least you’ll be ready when that day comes,”_ she smiled.

_‘And now she’s nice again, what the heck,’_ Sam uttered in her head. Then suddenly, she had an idea to test the waters and gauge Mrs. Benson’s reaction to her next response. _“Definitely,”_ she agreed with smile, _“and of course, Freddie will be there to help me.”_ Mrs. Benson stared back at her, only for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Sam as she awaited a rude retort. _‘Go ahead, say something rude lady. I know you want to,’_ Sam’s inner monologue continued.

_“Well, hopefully he’s better than he was with his cousin, baby Stephanie,”_ Mrs. Benson joked. No retort, no look of disapproval, nothing like that at all. Sam was shocked to say the least, and in the best way possible; things were actually going smoothly, they were getting along, and she even found herself laughing at Mrs. Benson’s joke. Could it be that Sam was actually enjoying herself?

_“Oh yeah,”_ Sam chuckled. She had forgotten about Freddie’s baby cousin, and how bubbly she was around everyone else except for him; the poor nub had to throw a pie in his own face just to get the baby to smile at him. _‘Wow, did I actually just laugh at one of her jokes? Ew,’_ Sam thoughts picked back up.

_“Excuse me for a minute Samantha,”_ Mrs. Benson then said, _“gonna go check on dinner in the kitchen real quick.”_

_“Oh, sure!”_ Sam replied as his mother got up. While sitting alone in the living room she whipped out her pear-phone, and there was a text from Freddie checking in on her.

_‘How’s it going?’_

_‘I’ll admit it’s going better than expected,’_ she texted back.

_‘I told you it wouldn’t be that bad,’_ he replied.

_‘Be quiet. Where are you at?’_

_‘I’m already on the way, should be there soon,’_ he informed her.

_‘As in driving?’_ she asked, and before he could even reply, she quickly sent another follow up text, _‘I appreciate the update, but don’t text and drive. I don’t need more problems.’_

_‘Awww, you do care,’_ he sent back with a nubby emoji attached. Just as she began to send a scathing text back for immediately disobeying her, he sent one more reply as she was typing, _‘Red light, btw.’_

_‘Still not okay. Phone down.’_ she proceeded to scold him anyway. This time he did as requested, no reply came from him.

Sam’s eyes then began mindlessly scanning the living room while Mrs. Benson was still in the kitchen, and just as she was about to avert her attention back to her phone something caught her eye, causing her to do a double take. Her eyes squinted from the couch as she inspected the discovery before getting up for a better look. Sam approached a familiar display of Benson family photographs; this very display had caused a pretty hostile argument a few months back and Sam had tried to repress that memory, but on this day it became apparent that she no longer needed to. She reached down to pick up a particular framed photo from the display, a photo she had given Mrs. Benson herself. Sam stood holding the picture in disbelief as memories from that argument late last year echoed in her head…

_‘Hopefully I can put a picture of Freddie with nice girl in that spot one day.’_

This spot on the display that had previously been noticeably empty was now taken by a photograph of herself with Freddie. Sam quietly stared at the picture in her hands when she was suddenly Mrs. Benson’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

_“Uh, Samantha, I don’t mean to be a bother, but could you lend me a hand really quick,”_ his mother called out.

Quickly setting the picture down, Sam replied, _“Oh sure! Be right there!”_ before scurrying off to the kitchen.

**_Chapter III: “Under The Microscope”_ **

Freddie finally came strolling into his mother’s apartment, looking as exhausted as ever, but still cheery nonetheless. Sam immediately met him at the door. _“Hey,”_ he smiled, but she deadpanned him in response. _“What?”_ he asked.

_“You look tired so I’ll spare you my lecture about your choices while driving,”_ she looked him in the eyes, _“but please don’t do stupid chiz like that anymore.”_

_“When did you become the responsible one?”_ he joked, and her brow furrowed in unamused fashion.

_“When did you become the reckless one?”_ she shot back.

_“Alright, sorry. I won’t make it a habit,”_ he assured her, leaning in for a quick kiss, but she pulled away.

_“Promise?”_ she replied, leaning away from him.

_“Promise,”_ he reaffirmed.

_“Good,”_ she then granted him the kiss.

_“Where’s my mom?”_ he asked as he took of his jacket.

_“Kitchen,”_ she pointed behind herself with her thumb.

_“And how’s it going with her?”_ he asked, but she said nothing in response. _“Bad?”_ he continued, assuming the silence meant Sam wasn’t thrilled.

_“Ummm, no,”_ Sam replied, _“not really.”_

_“So, it’s going good?”_ he then asked as he hung his coat on the rack.

Sam turned around and glanced toward the kitchen to see if his mother was still preoccupied, which she was, and then proceeded to whisper to Freddie, _“come here,”_ pulling on his wrist to lead him into the living room.

_“Hey! Go easy on the limbs!”_ he joked as he stumbled behind her with his arm in her grasp.

_“Shhh!”_ she shushed him before pointing to the picture display and whispering, _“Look.”_

_“What?”_ he asked, not inspecting things closely enough to understand what Sam had dragged him over there to see.

_“The picture, nub-head! Look at the picture!”_ she told him, picking it up once more to show him.

_“There’s my Freddie!”_ they were suddenly interrupted by his mother coming from the kitchen to give him a big hug. Sam quickly sat the picture down as his mothered greeted him.

_“Hey mom,”_ he greeted her back, uncomfortably wrapped up in her tight embrace with his arms pinned at his side.

_“Oh sweetie, you look exhausted,”_ his mother continue to pamper him, _“did you go to bed on time mister?”_

_“Uhhh,”_ Freddie paused as he side-eyed Sam with a smirk _, “yeah I did. It was just a long day.”_ He could see a light-hearted, yet somewhat scathing gaze coming from Sam in his peripheral for his antics.

_“Awww, well you can relax now,”_ his mother told him, _“you’re right on time, dinner will be done in a few minutes. I’ll grab you a drink.”_

_“Great, thanks mom!”_ he said as he began to walk over to the couch.

_“Shoes off though mister!”_ she shouted back to her son, _“You know better!”_

_“Ooops, sorry mom!”_ he kicked them off, _“I forgot.”_

_“That’s no excuse. Samantha remembered,”_ his mother commented matter-of-factly.

_“It’s true,”_ she quipped with a pompous smirk at him.

_“Alright, alright,”_ he interrupted them, _“they’re off, sheesh. Can I have a minute to breathe?”_ he joked.

His mother then walked a glass of Wahoo Punch back out to him as he and Sam took a seat together on the couch. _“Anyway, I’m gonna finish getting everything ready, should only be a few minutes.”_

_“Sounds good Mom,”_ Freddie said as he went to take a sip of his beverage.

_“The wahoo is sugar-free,”_ Sam whispered as his mother walked off.

Freddie chuckled quietly, _“Yeah, that’s kinda how it goes here,”_ he said knowingly.

_“Guess you’re used to the bad after taste then,”_ she shrugged as Freddie smirked. _“Oh, and by the way,”_ Sam gently thumped his arm.

_“What now?”_ he asked in confusion.

_“Dude, your mom totally saw you smirk at me when she asked if you went to bed on time last night,”_ she whispered, he chuckled once more. _“That’s so awkward!”_ she thumped him again, _“I already had enough awkward conversations with her before you got here.”_

_“Relax, it totally went over her head,”_ he played it off, taking another sip from his glass.

_“Don’t be so sure, she was talking grandchildren earlier,”_ Sam revealed, causing Freddie to darn near choke on his sugar-free Wahoo.

_“Grandchildren?!”_ he whispered in shock. Sam nodded bluntly. Regaining his composure, he joked, _“Babe, I love you and all, but I don’t think we’re ready for that.”_

_“I didn’t say I was on board with it you dork!”_ she replied, _“but she was talking about it earlier.”_

_“Alright, well I’ll give you that one, must’ve been pretty awkward for you,”_ he conceded.

_“Uh-huh,”_ she bluntly replied, _“so let’s not give her reasons to initiate any more awkward conversation.”_

_“Yeah, I’ll reel it in,”_ he joked, _“but she seriously brought that up?”_

_“Yep.”_

_“That’s crazy,”_ Freddie started to say before Sam interrupted.

_“Well…”_ Sam jokingly rolled her eyes.

_“She’s crazy, I know,”_ Freddie nodded, _“but still, I can’t believe she brought that up to you. Was she being serious?”_

_“It sounded like it to me,”_ Sam told him.

_“Babe, she likes you,”_ Freddie then told her in response, _“If she’s bringing up stuff like that, she likes you.”_

_“You think so?”_ Sam asked with hope present in her tone.

_“Definitely! She would’ve had a fit at even the idea of that before,”_ Freddie explained, _“and now she’s just bringing it up in conversation. She likes you.”_

_“I don’t know Freddie,”_ Sam continued skeptically, having hard time finding it to be true. _“She has been nice to me the entire time I’ve been here, but we’ve never gotten along before, ever. Why the sudden change?”_

_“I really think you earned her respect over the holiday babe,”_ Freddie told her, _“I don’t think you need to be skeptical anymore.”_

_“Maybe you’re right,”_ she turned to display of family photos again, hopping off the couch to grab the photograph once more. _“And look,”_ she walked back over and handed it to him, _“she put this up.”_

_“Our picture?!”_ Freddie popped off the couch ecstatically. _“Dude! You’re in!”_ he quietly exclaimed to her, _“She totally likes you now!”_ Sam pointed her head to floor, concealing a big smile. _“What’s the matter?”_ he asked as her head pointed downward.

_“Nothing,”_ she shook her head before picking it back up to reveal her emotional smile, _“nothing at all.”_ Freddie smiled back as he gave her a celebratory kiss.

**_Later that night…_ **

Sam and Freddie were preparing to leave for the night as Mrs. Benson was finishing preparing some Tupperware containers of leftovers to take home with them.

_“I’m gonna use bathroom real quick before we go,”_ he told Sam as she was slipping on her boots.

_“Mkay,”_ she replied as he scurried off, peculiarly enough to his old room. Sam chuckled at the routineness of his trajectory toward that bathroom, figuring he just instinctually chose that one because it was what he was accustomed to all his life.

_“The whipped cream is going home with you Samantha,”_ Mrs. Benson’s voice echoed from the kitchen as Sam was putting on her jacket.

_“That’s fine,”_ Sam acknowledged, _“I probably shouldn’t have brought it, I know the sugary stuff isn’t really for you,”_ she continued, heading over to the kitchen.

_“There’s nothing wrong with a treat every once in a while,”_ Mrs. Benson conceded, and Sam smirked, _“but just make sure Freddie doesn’t overdo it with this junk, okay?”_

_“Sure,”_ Sam chuckled lightly; turned out she was right to assume Mrs. Benson wasn’t too thrilled by the sugary topping being brought to her house, but at least she was a good sport about it. As his mother began to pack everything in a bag for them to take, Sam stood where the kitchen met the living room, wanting to say something more, still curious if they had truly turned a corner with each other. _“Thanks for um, for having me, um, us over,”_ she awkwardly pipped up, fumbling around for the right words to say, _“I um…”_

_“Oh don’t be so shy,”_ his mother interrupted, _“it was my pleasure.”_ Sam smiled. Mrs. Benson then took a second to stop packing the to-go bag and walked over to Sam. _“Look Samantha, I know we’ve had our differences,”_ she said as Sam nodded, “ _and if I’m being honest, I find you to be a bit abrasive…”_

_“Fair assessment,”_ Sam chimed in with slight smirk.

_“…but I’m okay with it,”_ she added as Sam stared back at her with a subtle bit perplexity etched on her face. _“Your relationship with my son, I’m okay with it,”_ she clarified.

Hesitating for a second, Sam curiously pursued his mother, asking, _“What changed?”_ She had to know.

Mrs. Benson took a small breath before speaking, _“When I pictured my son settling down with someone, you weren’t exactly the type of girl I envisioned him to be with,”_ she explained.

Sam needed no explanation there, she could easily picture that type of girl in her mind; they were well-mannered and put together, they would’ve gone to college and lived a more practical lifestyle, and they certainly wouldn’t have a juvenile record from a rebellious adolescence. Ironically, Sam knew a couple of girls who much better fit that description, some of whom she was quite close with, and one in particular she even bared a striking resemblance to, but Sam was not that girl.

_“…but he has fought me tooth and nail over your relationship for years now,”_ she continued, _“It didn’t matter how much I pushed back against it, he was going to be with you whether I approved of it, or not.”_ Sam found herself directing her gaze to floor again as she smiled at that thought. _“He never backed down,”_ Mrs. Benson paused, _“and neither did you,”_ she added, bringing the attention of Sam’s gaze back from the floor. _“Even though I’ve had you under the microscope the past few years, you stood your ground when it came to being with my son,”_ Mrs. Benson said with what sounded to be a hint of admiration in her voice.

Sam gave a subtle, but modest shrug. “ _Because I care,”_ she commented.

_“I see that now,”_ Mrs. Benson said, _“and I’m okay with it. I’m happy my son is with somebody who cares about him that much.”_

The mental sigh of relief Sam let out upon hearing that was one of most alleviating things she had ever experienced. It felt like a one-thousand pound weight that was weighing her down since she came back to Seattle had finally been lifted from her shoulders, and at last she could breathe. _“Thank you,”_ she replied with candor, _“you have no idea what the means to me. Really.”_

Mrs. Benson nodded with a smile as she walked back to the kitchen counter, _“but I’m telling you now, if you let my Freddie overdo it on junk like this, then we might have a problem,”_ she joked, grabbing the can of whipped cream from the bag. Or was it joke? Regardless, Sam chuckled, knowing the worst was behind them, and that even if they never truly saw eye to eye, the two stubborn-minded women had now established a rapport.

_“I’ll reel it in on junk food,”_ Sam joked back with no intent to follow through.

_“What’re you guys giggling about in here?”_ Freddie’s voice said from the hallway as he made his way out of his old bedroom.

Sam turned to him as he strolled into the kitchen, _“You’re going on a diet nub-head.”_

_“A diet?”_ he replied with his brow furrowed in confused.

_“That’s right,”_ his mother added, _“Samantha is gonna keep an eye on you for me, and make sure you’re not eating a bunch of junk food. Just because you’re not living in my house anymore doesn’t mean you can act out and eat whatever you want.”_

_“But I don’t eat a bunch of junk food…”_ he tried to say, but was cut off by Sam.

_“Hey, maybe you can teach me the old vegetable song you used to sing for him,”_ she deviously turned back to his mother.

_“Oh yes!”_ his mother replied ecstatically. _“How did it go? ‘When a big boy eats his vegetables…’”_

_“Don’t teach her the song!”_ he exclaimed in horror as Sam chuckled to herself.


End file.
